


Stop Me In Hours Of Darkness

by Lynds



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gaslighting, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Harry Potter, Protective Harry, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Weasley Family, but you can pry it from my cold dead hands, genuinely amazed this relationship tag exists..., or should I say the canoe, welcome to the ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 15:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16121381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Harry falls hard for Credence the first day he meets him. But it doesn't take much longer for him to figure out that Credence is trapped in a world of cruelty and abuse that Harry himself only just escaped from. How can he help the boy he loves when Credence doesn't even fully realise how awful his home life is?





	1. Front Cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasondragon64](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondragon64/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely jasondragon64's fault, after their comments on Wicked Boys. I ~~blame them~~ thank them completely for their enabling ways! I hope you enjoy, I'm so excited to share this ^_^
> 
> Unusually for me (a Drarry shipper) there won't be any Draco in this story. Can you imagine a non-magical Draco NOT going to Eton or Harrow?? He certainly wouldn't be in a comp!
> 
> Also this has triggered off a whole other sub-plot in an original novel I'm planning called Ripples, so that's equally awesome haha!


	2. Front Cover

Harry kept his head down as class began, anything to avoid another parents’ meeting. He’d hoped Mr Snape would be less of an arsehole in year eleven, but no such luck. It was like he took pleasure in winding Uncle Sirius up.

Mind you, Sirius wasn’t much better.

He flicked back in the textbook while Ron was busy sneaking a look at his phone under the desk. He’d seen the answer here somewhere…

The door opened with a creak. Ron jumped, and shoved his phone between his legs out of sight. The head walked in, dopey smile on his face as usual. “Morning, Severus. Do you mind if I address your class?”

Mr Snape made a gesture and tried to look like he hadn’t been watching YouTube videos while the class worked.

“Year eleven, thank you for your attention. This is Credence Barebone, he has just moved here from New York. I know you will all be very welcoming to him.” 

Poor Credence Barebone. Imagine being saddled with that kind of name. Harry leaned his chin on his hand and tilted his head a little to see the boy slouched behind Mr D. His shoulders were practically up around his ears, obviously hating the big introduction. He remembered his own grand entry in the middle of year nine. It had seemed like a special kind of torture to him, too.

“Now,” continued Dumbledore. “Harry Potter, as the most recent transfer yourself, I wonder if I might impose upon you to show Credence the ropes?”

“You might, sir,” replied Harry cheekily. You could get away with it with old Dumbledore.

“Splendid! In that case, if Ronald would take the empty seat next to Pansy, you could perhaps catch Credence up on his chemistry.” He nodded to Snape, and swept out.

Ron groaned as he gathered his stuff. 

“Sorry, mate,” said Harry.

“Not your fault, is it? Hopefully Bitchy Parkinson will keep her claws to herself this time.”

Credence sat in Ron’s seat and instantly shrank into his shoulders. “Hi,” said Harry softly. “I’m Harry.”

He glanced up out of big brown eyes and flickered the slightest of smiles. Harry felt something ignite in his chest, and he bit his lip, looking down at his work. “Uh… chemistry… I don’t really know how to do this. Were you doing GCSEs before?”

“No,” said Credence, and if possible his head drooped even lower.

“Well, that’s OK,” he said hurriedly. “Uh… maybe we could go through—“

“Harry Potter, do you think you could find it within you to shut up? You’re disturbing the rest of the class.”

“But sir, that’s not fair, Mr D said he had to help Credence,” called Ron, his cheeks already flushing pink with indignation. The rest of the class nodded, and the noise levels rose like a train in a tunnel.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Then you can go and play catch-up in the library. But don’t think you’re getting out of your homework tonight. If I find any of your work missing when I collect your book tomorrow I’ll be putting you in detention. The first of many, I can only imagine,” he sneered.

Harry ignored him easily and beckoned to Credence with a jerk of his head, leading him out of the science block and across the playground. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Credence, almost in a whisper. “I never meant to get you into trouble.”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, Snape’s just an arse. He needs to get a life.”

Credence relaxed fractionally and graced Harry with another tiny smile. He glanced at Credence out of the corner of his eye, sizing him up as they walked in silence.

He was a bit taller than Harry, even with the terrible posture. Not that that was hard. His trousers were too short, his blazer too small, and his shirt was grey and shapeless. He wasn’t wearing a jumper, and Harry saw his nail beds were tinged blue in the early autumn cold snap. His hair had been sheared into an uneven bowl cut.

Harry found himself touching his own hair. He shook his head. He didn’t know enough about Credence to make judgements about his home life. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep an eye on him. Mr D had asked him to, after all.

He looked at him properly as he held the door for him. That was not going to be a hardship. Credence had a strange, vulnerable beauty under the ill-fitting clothes and the bad haircut, and Harry had known he was queer ever since he got a crush on both Cho and Cedric in the same term. Sirius had sat him down and explained sexuality to him, and suddenly everything made sense.

“OK,” he said, opening his science book to the contents page. “This is everything we’ve done so far.” He ran his finger along the first two thirds of the book. “If we can get Miss Pince to copy this page you can tick off the things you’ve done and you’ll know what you need to focus on.”

Credence stared at the page, biting his lip.

“Does that sound OK?”

To Harry’s horror, Credence’s lip wobbled. “I… I don’t think I know any of these things.”

“Oh… oh, hey, well, you know… I bet it’s just 'cause you’re stressed out, and it’s a lot… I’m sure when you look at it more calmly you’ll see you actually know loads.” He patted Credence’s shoulder, and he gasped slightly, tensing up. Harry pulled back. “You’ll see.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Credence, wiping his eyes hard.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “It’s a lot. School sucks.”

Credence laughed slightly and smiled up at him. “It’s OK so far.”

***

Credence was in his tutor group too, and after lunch, Ron discovered he’d be catching his bus back to Hogsmeade. “Excellent,” he clapped. “Which street do you live on?”

“Harlem Row.”

“Ha! Mate, that’s so close. I’m on Ottery Street, that’s like the next one over. Hey, there were some moving vans out this weekend, that wasn’t you, was it?”

Credence shrugged. “I don’t know? Maybe.”

“Have you got a garden with only lawn in it? And has your mum got short brown hair?”

Credence nodded, and Ron laughed loudly enough for Mrs Trelawney to make a disapproving noise in his direction. He ignored him. “That’s literally next door to me! Our gardens back onto each other, can you believe that?” he grinned and, thumped Credence on the back. Credence flinched, his neck tensing, his jaw almost vibrating it was clenched so hard.

“Hey, move up, you two,” Harry said quickly, squeezing between him and Ron. “Look at this, Gareth Bale’s bicycle kick from last season.”

“How many times have you showed me this?” laughed Ron, but he leaned his arm on Harry’s shoulder, and Credence seemed to sag in relief.

Hermione and Harry both lived in Godric’s Hollow itself, and always waited in the passageway between the music block and the assembly hall for the Hogsmeade bus, so it was good that Ron had company as well now. 

And it shouldn’t really have surprised Harry how soon Ron started to notice something was off with Credence.

“He reminds me of you a bit,” he said. They were both cross legged on Harry’s sofa playing Black Ops. Sirius was a lot less concerned with age restrictions than Mrs Weasley.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

“You know… when you first started in year nine. He’s got that same… skinny, wide-eyed look. Like a rabbit that knows there’s a fox about.”

Harry considered pushing him off the sofa for the metaphor, but he thought about Credence, his head bowed low over his work, paused on a question he didn’t understand and almost hyperventilating as the teacher came closer. Or the time Neville had squeezed past him in the cramped English room and Credence had squeaked like his back hurt.

He remembered two and a half hateful, painful years at St Brutus’, eleven years before that at the Dursley’s. Dark cupboards and backhanded slaps and burn marks when he didn't do the cooking right, and the protective fire he’d been holding at bay in his chest burst to life.

Nobody should live like that. Two years with Sirius and Mrs Weasley had taught him that he hadn’t deserved any of it, so certainly Credence didn’t. With his honey brown eyes and his gentle smile and his awed face when Aberforth’s goats got into the school field and nudged him in the ribs for affection.

He paused the game. “What are we going to do about it?”

Ron stayed staring at the unmoving screen. “I dunno, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so the goats... one of the secondary schools I worked at had anglo-nubian goats (the school had a farm and did agriculture HNDs lol!) and they're just gorgeous! I used to spend hours trying to figure out how I could fit goat-petting into all my science lessons lmao!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day I will write slow-burn. But it is not this day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to gas-lighting or internalised blame for abuse in this chapter, please read with caution...

Credence integrated into their trio faster than he might have in other friendship groups. Harry figured that was partly because all three of them wanted to protect him, from what, they didn’t know yet. Harry wanted to protect him from everything.

But it helped that Ron and Hermione had been drifting closer and closer over the past few months, and having someone around to occupy Harry meant Ron could moon over her to his heart’s content. Honestly, sometimes Harry just wanted to shove their stupid faces together.

“Are you coming to town this Saturday?” he asked Credence. “For ‘Mione’s birthday?”

His eyes lit up brightly, then fell. “I don’t have any money. I didn’t… didn’t do my chores well enough to earn my allowance.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Hermione, leaning over. “My parents are paying for lunch and a movie for all of us. They keep asking me if I want to invite more people, I think Mum’s got fond memories of some Super Sweet Sixteenth type bash, but…” She shrugged. “So are you in?”

“Well… if you’re sure?”

“Absolutely! We’re meeting at Pinto’s at eleven, see you there!”

“Do you want my number in case you get held up?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I- I don’t have a phone.”

“That’s OK, you can get your mum to—“

“No!” His face had paled and his eyes were wide and desperate.

“OK,” said Harry softly, covering his hands with his own so he wouldn’t tear at the nails. He glanced around and leaned closer so only Credence could hear him. “Things are bad at home, huh?”

He looked away and Harry could feel him shaking. “Want to go up to the field and poke grass through the fence at the goats?”

He nodded miserably, and Harry stood to take their plates to the side of the lunch hall. “See you guys in maths, yeah?”

Hermione and Ron glanced between him and Credence. “Yeah, OK mate. See you in a bit.”

They didn’t talk on the walk up the field. The wind had settled down over the last few days and the sun was high and bright, so Harry wasn’t worried about Credence getting cold. 

He seemed to soften when he saw the goats poking their noses through the fence, demanding dandelion leaves. Harry could have left it at that, let his friend relax and forget for a moment, but maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing for him right now.  
He took a deep breath. “I didn’t always live with Sirius, you know,” he said. Credence stilled for a moment, then went back to petting the goats. “When I was a baby, my parents died and left me with my aunt and uncle. They hated me. I had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, my uncle punched me in the stomach or kicked me if I spoke out of turn, and they encouraged my cousin to beat me up. Then they sent me to this school where they still used corporal punishment - I mean, talk about more money than sense, right?” He laughed, aware that it didn’t sound very funny at all. “They could’ve just sent me to the local school rather than paying someone else to be fucking Victorian with me. It was…” 

He trailed off and cleared his throat. “It was… not good. But then my uncle Sirius showed up, just before Christmas in year nine. He was my dad’s adopted brother and he’d been in jail.” Credence raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I know, my uncle’s an ex-con. Anyway, he’d been looking for me for months, he was literally incandescent when he found me, like… he cried so hard. He called the police, and social services, but it was the journalist who made the most difference. She ran features on the School From Hell for weeks. I mean, she didn’t give two shits about us, but… well, it got the place shut down. And then all the parents were investigated. Turns out my aunt and uncle had never officially adopted me, and Sirius was listed as legal guardian in Dad’s will, so… here I am.”

He let out a long breath, then moved closer to Credence. “My point,” he said, “is that you don’t have to live this nightmare forever.” 

His heart pounding, he took his hand, butterflies going wild when Credence linked their fingers together. “I’ll do anything it takes to help you, Credence. We’ve got space, and I know Sirius would take you in, no questions asked. I’ll go to your house, pick up your stuff, I’m not scared of anyone. But if you want I’ll ask Sirius and Ron’s big brothers to help. There’s five of them, they’re all huge.”

Credence lifted the hand not linked with Harry’s, and tentatively brushed a curl off Harry’s forehead. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“Whatever you like,” Harry breathed. His heart was beating so hard it hurt. “I’ll still…” He cleared his throat. “I mean… I’ll like you just the same whatever you choose.”

“You like me?”

Harry laughed. He thought he might throw up, dizzy with nerves. “I, um. I’ve liked you since I first saw you. And- and I know you might not be g-gay, but I’m getting these, these _vibes_ off you and— oh my god, please put me out of my misery?”

“But… isn’t it a sin?” Contrary to his words, Credence still had his fingers curled through Harry’s hair, his face so close Harry could feel his breath.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he blurted. “I’m not Christian. But I know I’m bi, and Sirius is gay, and… and a sin should be something you _choose_ , not someone you are. That’s what Mrs Weasley says, and she goest to church every—“

He cut off as Credence pulled him close and _kissed_ him, hard and desperate. Harry grabbed his cheeks and angled his face, and _oh God_ he was kissing Credence Barebone, and explosions were going off behind his eyes, and he was whimpering into Harry’s mouth and holy shit, he wanted to hold him so close nobody could ever possibly hurt him ever again.

At last Credence pulled back and pressed his face into Harry’s neck. Harry wrapped his arms around his hunched back, kissing his temple as he shook again. “Oh God,” Credence whispered. “She’s gonna kill me. She’s gonna kill me.” He said it over and over, and all Harry could do was wrap him tightly in his arms and rock him from side to side. The words turned into silent sobs, his back heaving with the force of them.

At last he quieted. Harry wiped his own face. He hadn’t even realised he’d started crying too. 

“She always said there was something wrong with me,” Credence said. It broke Harry’s heart how small and defeated he sounded.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” he said fiercely. “You’re perfect.”

“But the Bible says—“

“It’s a translation of a book commissioned by a king who wanted to keep the church sweet while he was shagging his boyfriend, via two or three separate dead languages, written in such obscure metaphors that ether can’t work out if one of the villains is the actual devil or the king of Babylon. Oh, and they call Jesus and Satan the same nickname.”

Credence stood and stared at him. Harry shrugged. “Sirius’ birth family were fundamentalist. You should see some of the margin notes he’s got in his teenage copy of the King James.”

Credence laughed, and Harry passed him a tissue with a grin. “Do you want to stay with me tonight? I’m worried about you going back there.”

He bit his lip and looked down. Harry grabbed his hands. “Hey… it’s up to you. I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, OK? Like… whatever you choose, I’ll still want to be your…” He gulped. “Your boyfriend. But if you don’t want that that’s OK too, I’ll still get you out of there if you don’t want to be with me. I’ll be your friend no matter what. If you still—“

Credence kissed him on the lips, one quick peck, and Harry stood still, luxuriating in the rush spreading through his entire body. He knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“I want that. I want you,” said Credence, pressing their foreheads together. He sighed. “I’ve known I was gay since I was about ten. I tried to crush it down but it… it’s part of me. I was with someone back in New York. He was in college. I thought… I thought he loved me, but one day he just… stopped meeting me. Pretended he didn’t know who I was when I ran into him. I thought it was God’s punishment.”

Harry’s arms tightened around him. “If God goes around punishing gay people then where’s that guy’s punishment? And Sirius, he’s with Remus and they’re just disgustingly happy together. I just… don’t think God punishes people at all. And if he does, it sure as hell isn’t consistent.”

Credence nodded, frowning in thought. “I guess… and I’ve seen straight people have the same kind of bad luck too…”

Harry nodded. “Sometimes shit just happens.”

“I hope so,” he said, nudging their noses together.

“If God’s supposed to care about people, I think he’d want them to be happy. So… do you want to get away from your mum?”

Credence took a deep breath. “I think I’ll be OK. I mean… she’s scary but… she can have really good days as well, you know? And she cares about other people a lot. That’s why she punishes us.”

“You’ve got siblings?”

His eyes lit up. “I’ve got an older sister.” Then he frowned. “I _had_ a sister, Chastity. But she got pregnant and Ma… she left her back in New York. I’m not supposed to mention her.”

Harry pulled Credence back in for a tight hug. “It’s not OK, you know? I had to learn it myself, but it’s not right to be so afraid of your parents or carers.”

Credence sighed and relaxed into his arms. “I… guess. But it’s fine. She’s actually been a lot better recently. I shouldn’t complain so much, she’s all on her own, you know? It’s stressful for her.”

“OK,” he said softly, trying to ignore his heart sinking. “I’ll be here no matter what.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was MEANT to be PURE fluff but yeah. That didn't happen. But there's still some fluff! Please note that Credence is still in a situation where he has to convince himself that he's not suffering, because he feels like there's no way out. Harry is not having that and I promise, I PROMISE a happy ending.

Ron’s eyes lit up in glee when they walked up to maths with their fingers linked, and when Credence looked away to get his books out, Ron did a ridiculous little silent happy dance. Harry blushed and slapped him on the back of his head, then sat down next to _his boyfriend._

He was smiling so wide it hurt his cheeks, and his fingers itched to touch him, to have constant proof that he hadn’t dreamed it all. He clenched his fingers into a fist as he found them drifting towards Credence again, even if just to grab onto the corner of his blazer. Hold on and never let him go, to know he was safe even if Harry wasn’t looking.

When Credence's hand brushed over his, he almost jumped. He looked down. Credence's fingers were just barely touching the back of his fist, like he thought Harry might not welcome it. As if Harry didn’t want to spend every waking moment with Credence wrapped in his arms. He quickly opened his hand up and linked their fingers, and watched the pink flush spread across his cheekbones above a tiny smile.

***

When Hermione’s birthday weekend rolled around, Harry was almost beside himself with excitement. He was waiting by the window, fully dressed and twitching, at least an hour before Hermione’s parents were due to pick him up. When they pulled up he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Sirius, they’re here, bye!”

“Slow down, Pup! Have you got the present?” 

“Yep, see you later!”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed. “Wait! Have you got enough money?”

“Mr and Mrs Granger are paying, Sirius, please?”

He pulled him in and kissed him on the head even as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Look, take a twenty, just in case, and give me or Remus a ring if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” he said, his cheeks dimpling as he squeezed him back tightly, and ran out of the door. He could hear his uncle chuckling at him, but he didn’t care. “Happy birthday, Hermione!” he said breathlessly, and gave her a hug, their bodies twisted awkwardly in the back seat.

“Thanks, Harry,” she grinned. “You OK?”

“Yeah, me? Yeah. Great. No problem. You?”

She raised an eyebrow and laughed at him.

Ron was at Pintos when they got there, but though Harry craned his neck and peered around, there was no sign of Credence. Ron was blushing as Hermione opened his present, a thin chain with a heart pendant, but Harry barely heard a word she said, or noticed their shy, under the eyelashes looks. He could just feel his own heart sinking.

Maybe Credence had forgotten. Maybe he hadn’t been able to come. Maybe his mum had given him a last minute job.

And under it all, a quiet, scared voice: maybe he’s hurt.

They ordered coffee and flicked through the menu. Hermione looked at her watch. “Do you think we should order for Credence?”

Harry bit his lip. “I don’t know… I wish he had a phone.”

Ron frowned, concerned. “I’m sure he’s on his way, mate.”

He forced himself to smile and tear his face away from the door. “Yeah. He’ll be fine.”

He’d almost given up hope by the time Credence arrived. He’d just been about to tell Hermione to place their orders, when he appeared at their table, biting his lip, his head hunched low, his fingers tangling over and over as he apologised.

“Credence, you made it!” Hermione said, standing up to give him a hug. “Do you want a burger?”

He blinked at her. “Uh… a burger?”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re all going to have - or would you like to choose?”

He sat down heavily next to Harry. “I… I don’t… I’m not supposed to be…”

She sat down as well, frowning. “What’s up?”

Harry wrapped his fingers around Credence’s cold hands, frowning at the tremor in them. It wasn’t so cold today, even his insubstantial jacket should have been enough - especially with how fast he’d obviously run to get there. “Are you OK?”

“I’m not… I’m not supposed to have lunch?”

Hermione blinked. “I’m sorry, are you asking me, or…?”

“N-no, I just… it’s my punishment. Ma… she said I don’t get…”

“When was the last time you ate?” said Ron, his voice hard.

Credence blinked and shrank back a little, and Harry rubbed the back of his hand, turning towards him like he could protect him from the world. “I think… school lunch?”

“Fuck,” breathed Ron. “‘Mione, get him the biggest burger they have.”

She frowned. “Are you saying your mum’s starving you?” she asked, leaning closer, glancing around to check that nobody was listening.

“No,” he frowned, shaking his head, almost laughing at her. “Of course not, I’m not _starving_. There are people _much_ worse off—“

“But she’s not given you any food for over twenty four hours, that’s _starving_ you - that’s abuse, Credence!”

“It’s… no, it’s fine!” he said, voice rising in panic. “I’m fine!”

“Why isn’t she letting you have food?” Ron asked, face crumpled in an angry frown.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly. “There’s no indiscretion that should be punished by withholding food, it’s—“

“It’s not what you think,” Credence insisted. “I broke her rules, I’m…” he stared down at his hands, haunted. “I’m breaking them now,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t matter what rules she has in place,” Hermione said, leaning forward like if she got closer she could impart the facts directly into his brain. “Food is a fundamental human right, withholding it from prisoners is a form of torture outlawed by the Geneva convention - it’s a _war crime_. How _dare_ she—“

“That’s my mom you’re talking about,” he protested, frowning, but all it did was make him look more miserable.

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” she insisted, taking the hand that Harry wasn’t already holding. “Credence, you’re a person under her guardianship, blood relation or not, that kind of treatment is against the law. You have the right to be fed!”

He scoffed and turned his face away from all of them. “Oh, c’mon, that’s crazy. What about people who can’t afford food? Do they get punished if they don’t feed their kids?”

“No,” she said gently, ducking to try and catch his eye. “But there are food banks in this country to make sure that, as far as possible, people never go hungry. And that’s beside the point anyway - is your mum too poor to afford food for you?”

His lip wobbled just a little. “No,” he whispered.

She squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. “I’m so sorry, Credence, but this should never happen to anyone. You shouldn’t be starved as a punishment.” She glanced at Harry. “Can we do anything? Can we help you?”

He wiped his face and sniffed, still not turning towards them. “You are helping,” he said thickly. “Just being here, this is… this is so much more than…” He trailed off, and when Harry saw his shoulders shake he pulled him around so he could cry into his neck, circled in a hug. 

“Credence,” Hermione said, her eyes wide and sad. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Ron squeezed her shoulder, and the two of them went to order lunch. Harry stroked Credence’s hair, running his fingers through the longer strands as Credence clung to him and cried silently. “She’s right,” he said. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Won’t… won’t you please let me help you?”

“You do help me,” he whispered. “You help me so much, I could never have imagined _anything_ like… like this.”

His heart hurt and he closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I wish I could take you away from there.”

He could feel his muscles tensing up, and rubbed his flank, trying to make it better without taking it back. “I can’t,” said Credence at last. “I… I just… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I want to help you, but if you’re not ready…”

“I’m just… I’m such a coward,” he whispered.

“No you’re not,” He insisted. “You’re so brave, Credence, you’re surviving a really difficult situation.” He cupped his cheek as Credence sat up, looking at him with sad brown eyes. “It took me ages to believe it, too. I thought I deserved everything, I thought… I thought I was a freak, like my aunt and uncle told me. But Sirius, and Ron and his family, and Hermione, they’ve taught me that I didn’t deserve any of it. That what happened to me was wrong, and _nobody_ should ever go through anything like that.”

“It’s not so bad,” he said, shrugging. “You talk like I’m… I don’t know, fighting a war or something, but… I have a roof over my head, and I get to go to school, and… plenty of people have it far worse. Starving orphans in Africa, you know?”

“And are you helping the starving orphans in Africa by suffering like this?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Credence snorted.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Look, just because someone else has it worse? Doesn’t mean she can get away with doing what she does to you. And… I’m not saying you have to fight. It’s hard. It’s _so hard_. And Hermione, and Ron… they don’t really get that. I mean, I love them, but they don’t… they don’t know how scary it is.” He was whispering now, leaning close, speaking his past in secret so as not to contaminate the good world he knew now. “But you’ve got someone on the outside now. You’ve got a lot of someones. Not just the three of us, I know we can’t do much - we could even make it worse, I _know_. But there’s Sirius, and Remus, and the Weasleys, and the Grangers, they’re all adults, and they know how to fight adults. They’ll _believe_ you. I swear!”

He was quiet, something shuttered in his eyes, some sort of glimmer of hope held back by fear and years of learning there was no sanctuary anywhere else. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last. 

“And I’ll be here.” He kissed the tears away from his eyes until Ron sat down and jolted their chair. 

“Alright, lovebirds,” he smirked. “I ordered you a chicken burger, is that OK, Credence?”

He nodded and smiled. “Thank you. Oh!” He fumbled in his pocket. “I forgot your present,” he said, handing a paper bag to Hermione. “I’m… it’s not very… I’m sorry…”

“Oooh, I love this stuff,” Hermione said, peering into the bag. “Is it from that market stall? The one near the precinct? Their fudge is the best! Thank you, Credence.”

He blushed, a pink wave rushing up his neck to his cheekbones, and smiled down at his hands. Harry couldn’t resist kissing him.

He couldn’t resist much about Credence. He couldn’t stop staring at him, the hollows by his square jaw, the curve of his lips, the crinkles around his eyes every time he smiled. He wanted to make him smile all the time just to see his eyes sparkle and almost disappear beneath the force of his joy. 

They ate so much Harry’s stomach was groaning. Credence couldn’t even finish his, and they wrapped leftover chips and burger into napkins to stuff into his pockets, ignoring his protests. “Eat them before you get home,” Harry said quietly with a kiss just below his ear. “Eat it when you’re walking back and throw the evidence away before you get there.”

They sat in the dark of the cinema to watch a political thriller Hermione had been looking forward to for weeks. Ron fell asleep, and Harry soon lost track of the plot, focusing instead on the lights reflecting off Credence’s face. He found himself smiling goofily at his beautiful boyfriend as he stared, open mouthed, at the screen, jumping at the gunshots and then laughing sheepishly at himself.

Credence turned, about to tell Harry something, and stopped, doing a double take when he saw how he was staring at him. Harry blinked and shook himself, looking away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Credence shook his head, leaned closer, and kissed him, his fingertips resting on his jaw. Harry closed his eyes in bliss, linking their fingers together and pressing closer to kiss him back. He’d never felt so happy in his life as he did right now, kissing Credence under the final scenes of a movie he hadn’t watched.

They were still holding hands, tucked close together until they walked out of the cinema into the chilly evening air. Harry let go of him reluctantly. He didn’t think the Barebones knew many people in the town just yet, but the last thing he wanted was for someone to see them and mention it to Credence’s mum. “I’ll see you at school, yeah?” he said softly, smiling up at him.

Credence nodded and his whole face lit up in a beautiful smile, it was like walking into the sunlight. “I want to give you a kiss right now, but I can’t,” he whispered.

Harry blushed and lifted his hands to his face like he was going to blow on them to warm them up, but instead kissed his own knuckles, then quickly slipped the kiss into Credence’s hand. Credence lit up again. “Sorry,” grinned Harry. “That was probably the soppiest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“I’m honoured, then.”

“OK,” said Ron suddenly, on a sharp breath. He turned to Hermione, his fists clenched and his eyes wide. “OK, so… they’re being really disgustingly cute and… uh… I don’t suppose you might… be OK with me kissing you?”

Hermione burst out laughing. Ron groaned and turned to run away, but she grabbed his wrists. “I would be more than OK with it, Ronald. I’ve only been waiting for it all year.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Really?”

“Kiss her,” Harry fake coughed.

Ron swept forward, holding Hermione’s face with both hands, and kissed her. Harry and Credence whooped and laughed, voices echoing around the town square. When Ron pulled back his face was as red as his hair, and Hermione was looking dazed.

“I’ve never been prouder of you, mate,” Harry grinned, slapping Ron on the back.

“Yup. Um. Awesome. That was… So I’m going to walk home and… Credence! We’re walking home together. Come on. Happy birthday Hermione!”

He grabbed Credence by the elbow and marched away. Hermione and Harry stared after them. Harry nudged her.

“Shut up,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your smug was so loud you didn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “It was about damn time.”

She snorted. “You’re telling me. I thought I was being really obvious with my flirting.”

He wobbled his hand. “Eh. Not so much.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy Christmas buildup...

“I think I love him," he told Sirius one cold winter evening, staring down at his hot chocolate.

“I think you do too,” said Sirius. He leaned over and pulled Harry into a tight hug. Harry returned one, just as tight. He knew Sirius did that when he was scared, or happy, or angry - or just feeling emotions he couldn't handle. Remus had once told Harry he used to scream and throw things instead, that he’d worked long and hard to change for the people he loved, and that Harry’s Dad had been the one to help him start.

“I’m worried about him, Sirius,” he said, almost in a whisper. “He’s still jumpy, and scared, and he tries to… to _shrink_ , like he thinks he takes up too much space. It gets worse sometimes, but when I ask, he just laughs it off. And he never tells anyone one when he’s hurt - he twisted his ankle the other day and just didn’t say anything. He looked at us weird for saying we should take him to the nurse. By the next day his ankle was all swollen and properly black and blue, but I know he’d been out doing that nasty leaflet delivery thing for his mum that morning before school.”

Sirius stroked his hair and looked sad. “So a bit like when you didn’t tell me you’d broken your wrist for three days and then nearly fainted when I knocked into you?”

Harry opened his mouth. Then shut it. “That’s different,” he said after a moment. “I really didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Harry,” he sighed, “you’d been out of that school for just over three months, of course it didn’t feel _that bad_. You were used to so much worse.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder, then leaned back to look him in the eye. “Credence is still living in his own much worse.”

Harry gulped and felt an ache in his eyes and throat. “I know,” he whispered. “What can I _do?”_

Sirius just pulled him close and held him.

***

He was dreading the last day of school. Usually he loved the Christmas holidays - they made him feel overwhelmed in the best possible way. He’d lived with Sirius for nearly two years now, but two Christmasses weren’t enough to get used to the feeling that people - so _many_ people - loved him and wanted to see him happy. 

Sirius and Remus always went all out, decorating the house, hanging stockings, waking Harry at 6am by jumping on his bed on Christmas day (Sirius) and baking mince pies for him throughout December (Remus). Ron and Hermione gave him something so sweet and thoughtful last year, and he was feeling the bubbling joy that came from having people to buy presents for himself.

Until he remembered that Credence wasn’t supposed to celebrate birthdays or Christmas, wasn’t allowed to come to Harry’s even for study, and would be stuck a whole bus ride away from him for two weeks.

He leaned his chin on his hand in French class and watched Credence bite his lip as he struggled through a grammar exercise. He felt this wonderful, terrible, bubbling urge to blurt out ‘I love you!’ and probably ruin everything by moving too fast. He wanted to ask Credence to meet him in Banbury every day over the holidays, sneak away from his house like he knew he did a lot, like he did for Hermione’s birthday. He wanted to ask him to meet him on Christmas day, forget Remus’ roast dinner, just because Harry wanted to wrap him tightly in his arms and feel him relax into an exhale, resting his cheek on Harry’s shoulder.

God, he was so clingy!

He couldn’t ask these things, he told himself firmly, forcing his focus back onto his work. Honestly, this was verging on stalker-y, possessive behaviour. And maybe Credence would be glad of some space. Harry never left him alone in school after all.

But at lunch time, lining up to wait for Mr Flitwick to send them in class by class, Credence turned to face him. His eyes were bright, cautious and nervous all at at once. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, ducking his head and grabbing Harry’s hand. “Or… well, I hope it’s a surprise. It’s not very— I mean, it’s kinda pathetic and - and selfish, but—“

“Hey,” he said, stroking his cheek. Credence leaned into his touch like a cat, sighing like he did every time Harry touched him. It made something inside him ache and blaze. “I’ll love it, whatever it is.”

He smiled up shyly. “Um… Ma said I… I have to go to the library to study every two days this holiday. So I thought… I could come and see you? Or… or you could come and s-study with…” He frowned and shook his head. “Sorry, that’s a crap surprise, why would you want to—“

Harry cut him off, kissing him breathlessly. “That’s the best thing ever, Credence! I was dreading this holiday, you have no idea, I thought I wasn’t going to see you for two whole weeks!”

Credence kissed him back, pulling him close, his arms tight around Harry’s waist.

“Oh my God, you two!” Theo yelled from behind them. “Stop bloody snogging, the line’s moving!”

***

Harry woke early on the first Monday of the holidays, and scrambled out of bed with a big stupid grin on his face. He dressed in black skinny jeans and a faux retro Guns n’ Roses t-shirt, and Sirius’ old leather jacket, and then spent half an hour trying to make his hair _behave_ and getting more and more stressed out.

“Harry - Harry, what are you _doing_ , pup?” Sirius asked, coming into the bathroom with a yawn. “My God, how much product have you got in there?”

Harry let his forehead hit the mirror with a thump. “Why won’t it just _lie flat?”_

Sirius ruffled his hair, then grimaced. “You’re going to need a shower before you go, mate,” he said. Harry met his eyes miserably in the reflection. “Come on,” he said with a half-smile. “Do you ever style your hair for school?”

“No.” He sounded childish and petulant and that was just embarrassing.

“Did you style your hair for your last date?”

“That was Hermione’s birthday.”

“Whatever, but did you?”

“No.”

“So Credence is used to your usual bird’s nest, right?”

“I guess,” he said, picking at his cuffs. “I just…”

 _“And_ he probably likes running his fingers through your thick, luscious curls,” Sirius added with an evil smirk. “Wouldn’t want him to get his hands stuck.”

“Shut up!” he groaned, flushing bright red and smacking Sirius in the chest. He couldn’t help smiling, though, as Sirius cackled.

“Get out of the bathroom and let me have a slash in peace, then the shower’s all yours,” he grinned. Harry rolled his eyes and did what he was told.

He caught the 10am bus, earlier than he ever had before, and was expecting to walk up to the library to meet Credence. So when he saw him leaning against the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat.

“Hey,” he said, as breathless as if he’d run all the way from Godric’s Hollow.

Credence straightened up and his face _shone_ with a smile. “Hey.”

“You’re freezing,” said Harry, his eyes widening. “Here - open your present early.” He held out a brightly wrapped gift, and Credence’s mouth fell open.

“Is that - but… I didn’t—“

“It’s just something little,” he said hurriedly. “And I know you can’t keep it at home because of your mum, but I thought, well - you’re always cold, so I could keep it with me and you could wear it whenever I see you and - and it’s a boring colour, so it’ll go under your blazer, but… yeah. Anyway. Um. Happy Christmas?”

Credence took it almost reverently. “I’ve never had a Christmas present before,” he murmured.

Harry winced. “I should’ve got you something better, I—“

“No!” he said, clutching it to his chest. Harry smiled shyly and lowered his hands back down, shoving them in his pockets. Credence unpicked the sellotape carefully and folded the paper, tucking it into his book bag before opening the hoodie up. “It’s so soft.”

Harry blushed and tugged on his ear, shuffling his feet. Credence immediately pulled his thin jacket off, handing it to Harry before pulling the hoodie over his head and closing his eyes as he tugged the sleeves over his fingers. “It’s so _warm!”_

Harry smiled up at him, helping him slip the jacket on over the top, and tugged the hood over Credence’s head. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into the neck. Harry laughed, imagining him pulling the drawstrings tight so he completely hid himself, like a turtle. 

“Thank you, Harry,” he said. “I love it so much.”

“This is where you kiss him, love,” said an old Nana with a blue rinse and a shopping trolley. She and her friend were watching the two of them with cheeky grins and raven bright eyes, and Harry covered his face in embarrassment. Credence, though, just laughed joyfully and pulled his hands away, kissing him lightly on the lips and pressing their heads together. The old ladies clapped and cackled like the wicked witches they _actually_ were, and Harry didn’t lose his smile for at least an hour.

***

They did get some work done that day. Harry hadn’t been sure they’d even go to the library, but Credence still had a lot of catching up to do on pretty much everything. The library was busy, but they found a patch of free space by the large print books and sat cross legged on the floor, working steadily through the textbooks in Credence’s bag.

“I want to do well in these exams,” Credence admitted when they took a break for lunch. “It’s my ticket out - if I can get enough B grades she might let me stay on for A-levels, and then if I could get into college - uni, I mean - then I’d…” He took a deep breath and stared at his sandwich. “I’d be _free.”_

Harry squeezed his elbow and absolutely did not ask whether his mum would allow him to go to uni, or whether he’d be able to apply for student loans without her knowing. “We’ll get you those Bs then,” he said firmly.

Credence looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a fierce intensity, then leaned forward and kissed him, slow and deep, right there on the library steps. Harry sighed into the bliss of it and tangled their fingers together, and for a moment it felt like they could do anything in the world as long as they were together.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Into the Weasley household... these guys were so much fun to write!

They walked back towards Credence’s house together, hands linked and soft words shared in the cold air. The ground was frosty beneath their trainers, and when he kissed him goodbye Credence’s nose was chilly against Harry’s cheek. He reluctantly tugged the hoodie off and bundled it into Harry’s arms, shivering until he could pull that mockery of a jacket back on. Harry bit his lip and squeezed the hoodie, wishing he could make it better.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” said Credence, kissing him once more. “I… um. I. Harry, I lo… um. Happy Christmas.”

He turned with a wave and almost ran down the street before Harry could remind him that they’d see each other before the twenty-fifth. “Happy Christmas,” he said instead. He hugged the hoodie close, catching the smell and warmth Credence had left behind on it - it wasn’t like anyone was around to see - and walked down the next street to the Weasleys’.

Fred opened the door when he knocked. “All right, Hazza?”

He grinned. “Hi, Fred.”

“Mum! The waif’s here, let the feeding begin!” 

Harry followed Fred, got his back thumped unnecessarily hard by George, waved to Ginny and winced as she waved back and dropped the hockey stick she’d been balancing on her chin. Percy yelled at Ginny, she yelled back, Mr Weasley nodded and smiled serenely, and Bill, visiting for the holiday from London, bounced downstairs and nearly knocked Harry over.

“Oof, sorry, kid. Ron, Harry’s here!” And he was gone before Harry could stutter out a greeting to one of his earliest crushes.

“Oh, Harry dear, come in,” said Mrs Weasley, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “My goodness, you’re half staved! Dinner will be ready in half an hour, do you want a sausage roll to tide you over?”

“I’d like a sausage roll,” said George.

“Me too,” Fred added, and they peered over his shoulder, resting their bony chins on him.

“Not for you, guests only,” she scolded, flapping at them with her tea towel.

“Terrible,” said Fred, shaking his head.

“See how she treats us?”

“Like afterthoughts—“

“—less important than guests—“

“—her own beloved children!”

“Cast out like so much unwanted rubbish—“

“—like the little match girl—“

“—starving orphans—“

“—Oliver Twist—“

“Oh, do get _out_ , will you? Stop filing the poor boy’s head with your rot!”

A hand reached between the twins and Mrs Weasley and tugged Harry away, pulling him upstairs. “All right, mate? Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “Your family’s brilliant.”

He snorted. “They’re bloody annoying, that’s what they are. How was your date?”

Harry blushed and couldn’t stop the smile creeping wider and wider across his cheeks. “Yeah, good, thanks.”

Ron smirked. “You’re so bloody soppy, mate.”

“Oi!” he said shoving Ron’s shoulder. “Speak for yourself - ‘oh, Hermione’s so smart, she’s so beautiful, the way the sun glints off her hair when it sticks up in just the right way, the’ - ooff!”

Ron tackled him onto the airbed and tickled him until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. He managed to get his legs under control and kicked him off so he fell back against the drawers, giggling. Harry had to take his glasses off to wipe the tears away. “Arse.”

Ron just threw a pillow at him. “Damn. I meant to bring up the spare duvet.”

“We’ll get it later.” He hauled himself up to the skylight and leaned out, his breath curling up in white clouds.

“Aww, c’mon, mate, it’s cold,” Ron moaned. “You can gaze into your boyfriend’s back garden when the sun’s up.”

Harry hummed reluctantly. He couldn’t see much anyway, the Barebone house was dark, almost brooding. He didn’t remember paying much attention to that house before Credence moved in - surely he’d have noticed it looking that… _malevolent_ before? He shivered as he dropped back in, pushing the skylight shut.

All through dinner he thought of the cold, silent house, the perfectly manicured lawn that reminded him of another in Surrey. As the Weasleys argued and swore at each other and laughed and broke into song, listening to cheesy Christmas music, Harry found himself imagining another dark-haired, scrawny boy, squeezed in between redheads. There was never enough space around the Weasley table, but somehow, there was always room for one more.

***

He couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning on the creaky air bed while Ron snored. It was almost too warm in the little attic room, and Harry had never had a regular sleep pattern. Eventually he got up and crept out, the duvet draped loosely over his shoulders.

There was a window with a wide sill on the landing below, and he piled the books and mugs and general accumulated tat of nine family members on the floor, placing it in perfect order so he could return it just as it was later. The sill was wide enough for him to crawl right onto - he and Ginny were the only ones still small enough to do so. He leaned against the cold glass and stared out of the window.

The moon had risen, a silver light saturating the town from above, and orange from the lampposts below. He could still just see into Credence’s garden, and he wondered which room was his, if he was asleep. If he was safe.

He frowned and peered through the glass. He was sure he’d seen movement over by a shrub in the corner. But he didn’t think there’d been any shrubs at all in the Barebone’s garden, just lawn.

There it was again! Harry sat up, his heart pounding and the duvet falling off his shoulders, because he was sure that wasn’t a shrub at all.

He raced upstairs and climbed onto Ron’s bed, pulling the skylight open and leaning out. 

“Mate?” Ron said sleepily, shifting and rubbing his eyes. “What’re you doing? Fuck, it’s freezing!”

“Credence is in the garden.”

Ron groaned and covered his face with a pillow. “So what?”

“Ron, he’s in the garden, crouched in the corner and all curled up, he’s freezing.”

“What?” Ron frowned up at him.

“I think he’s in trouble.”

He stood next to Harry, pushing the skylight open further to take his extra height. “I don’t see him.”

“That black blob in the corner - there, he moved!”

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, rubbing his eyes hard. “What’s he doing there? He’s gonna freeze.”

“What if he’s… what if this is a punishment?” Harry turned to him, wide eyed. “What if his mum found out about us?”

“What? Nah, she wouldn’t.”

Harry didn’t wait to explain abusive families to someone who’d only ever known love. He pulled his hoodie on over his pyjamas and ran downstairs. 

He was getting his trainers on when Ron joined him, and held out Credence’s Christmas hoodie. Harry took it, a smile blooming across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HAPPENING!!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is so done with his siblings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credence is still internalising a lot of his abuse and blaming himself, fooling himself into thinking it's because Mary-Lou loves him. I promise he won't think like this for much longer, but if that's triggery for you please read with caution. There's also reference to much more physical abuse, all canonical, and homophobia.

They crept out into the garden, frost crackling under their shoes. There was a cherry tree near the panel fence, and Ron helped him up onto one of the lower branches so he could see over the top. His chest ached when he caught sight of Credence huddled tight on the other side of the garden. Up until then he’d almost been able to convince himself he’d imagined it.

“Credence,” he hissed. “Hey, Credence!”

His head snapped up. “W-w-what are you d-d-doing here?”

“Jesus, Credence, you’re freezing!” He leaned over as far as he could, holding out the hoodie. “Take this, quick.”

“I can’t,” he said, shrinking back. “I… I can’t.”

Harry pulled back and tried to climb closer, but the tree was small and the branch started to bend under his weight. “I’m gonna get you out, this is crazy.”

Credence didn’t say anything, just dropped his head onto his knees. Harry could see his shivering from all the way across the garden. “Hey, mate,” he called down to Ron. “Do you think you can help me climb the fence?”

Ron backed up against the corner panel while Harry scrambled down the tree. He linked his fingers, bent his knees, and Harry was just about to step onto his hands when “What are you doing?”

“Jesus fuck!” Ron yelped, and dropped Harry’s foot.

“Are you having a tryst?” asked Fred curiously.

“I always thought you two were—“

“—close.”

“Oh my God, will you two fuck off?” Ron groaned.

“We can’t do that, little brother.” 

“We can’t let you cheat, can we?”

“Not even with each other.”

“Much as we ship it.”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

“Kept apart by society’s rules.”

“What does that even mean?” Ron snapped.

“So repressed,” George said with a sniff.

“The internalised homophobia—“

“Look,” Harry said frantically. “Could you two help me rescue my boyfriend, or just—“

Fred raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Credence is out in the garden, I think his mum’s locked him out as a punishment… I think she’s found out… look, it’s my fault, OK? I can’t just leave him there.”

George put an arm over his shoulder. “Yeah, of course, mate.”

“We’ll help,” Fred nodded.

“Well, you’ll need to hurry,” Ginny said from up the cherry tree. “I think he’s falling asleep and that can’t be good.”

“Ginny? Get back inside!” Ron snapped. “Mum’ll kill us if you fall out of that tree!”

“Oh, as _if_ I’ve ever fallen out of anything.”

“Does your family ever sleep?” Harry asked.

“You started it,” Ron growled, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Alright, Percy,” smirked George. “Oops, I mean Ronniekins.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“If you give Harry a boost by the corner he’ll be able to jump over,” called Ginny.

“What do you lot think I was… oh, for God’s sake, Harry, get over here!” Ron held out his laced hands again and with the twins pushing and steadying him, he scrambled over and landed with a grunt in the Barebones’ garden.

He dusted frosty dirt off his pyjamas, then ran over to Credence, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and shaking him. “Hey, wake up, it’s not safe to fall asleep like this.”

Credence started slightly, and blinked up at him. “Harry?”

“Hey,” he smiled, relief warming him a little. “Come on, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“What?” He looked around with a frown and his eyes widened. “No, no, you can’t be here - you’ve got to go, get out!”

“Not without you. Now get up, we’ll get you over the fence and you can come live with me. I’m not leaving you here.”

“Harry, no, you don’t understand,” he moaned. “You’ve got to - I need you to be _safe_ and if she finds you—“

“I need _you_ to be safe,” he said fiercely. He grabbed Credence’s hand, and he squeaked and pulled away, cradling it to his chest.

“What has she done?” Harry asked in horror, anger building in his chest. “Credence, show me what she did.”

He lowered his head over his injured hand, and Harry’s heart ached as he sniffed, his shoulders shaking. “Please go, Harry.”

He shook his head and sat down next to him, the cold of the grass sinking through his trousers in an instant. “I’m not leaving, Credence. Never.”

He wrapped his arms around him and tried to pull him close, but Credence whimpered and flinched. Harry looked at his own hand in horror, smudged with something dark and wet. “What did she _do?”_

“She found the letters from Chastity,” he said softly, and Harry was worried that his voice seemed to slur. “She whipped my hand for that. But then she found the… the wrapping paper in my bag.”

Harry’s heart froze and felt like it might crumble in guilt and grief. He pressed his head against Credence’s bicep. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“S’not your fault,” he sighed. “You tried… you took the hoodie. But… she found the card. She knows what I am.”

“So she… she what? Whipped your back bloody and put you out here to freeze to death?!”

He shrugged. “She wants the devil to leave me. Just… doing it cause she loves me.”

“No, Credence, that’s not _right_ ,” he said, pleading with him to believe it. “It’s _not_ the devil, look - look at me! Do you think I’m the devil?”

“No!” His eyes widened and he stared at Harry. “You’re an angel!”

He blushed, but pushed it aside and cupped Credence’s cheek. “And do you think _I_ should be punished for loving you?”

Credence’s eyes fluttered, then seemed brighter, more focused. “You… you love me?”

Harry’s mouth fell open and he blushed. “Uh… did I… um, well….” he bit his lip. “I - I do, yeah, I -it’s not too soon, is it?”

“You love _me?”_

He shrugged awkwardly. “Well yeah. I do. I love you.”

Credence surged forwards and kissed him, messy and frantic and a little too hard, but Harry wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Oi, you two!” Ron snapped, a lot closer than he’d have expected. “Not the time or the place!”

Harry looked round at his best friend, standing in the middle of the bare lawn with his hands on his hips. He bit down on a hysterical giggle at how much like his mum he looked right then.

“Well? Come on then! You two were taking too long.”

Harry stood, and he and Ron helped Credence to his feet. He swayed a little when Ron moved over to the fence, and Harry tucked his arm around his waist, taking the opportunity to hold him close. 

“Come on, Credence,” said Ron, leaning against the fence with his hands out. “My brothers will help you over the other side.”

“Hi,” said George, pulling himself up to peer over and making the fence wobble.  
“Get down, you idiot,” hissed Ginny from the tree.

Credence had his foot on Ron’s hands, Harry was supporting him, and Ginny was focused on directing the twins. So none of them noticed Mary Lou Barebone marching silently up the lawn until Harry felt a hand on the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to say sorry and then remembered that I'm evil and love torturing you so...
> 
> I'M KIDDING I am sorry! But it'll be so worth it, I promise!


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just a very short one this time, but I hope you'll think the badass boys are worth it in this chapter! No more cliffhangers, I promise! TW for some seriously homophobic language and Mary-Lou Barebone being herself

As Harry was thrown to the side, he rolled and crouched, years of attacks burned into his muscle memory. But Mary Lou wasn’t interested in him.

Credence lay on his back where she’d thrown him, his hands up to hold off the blows she was raining down on his ribs, his stomach, the side of his face. “Wretched boy! How dare you try to escape honest punishment? Foul, deviant freak!”

Ron had overbalanced when Credence fell, but he and Harry were up in an instant, grabbing the vicious woman, one arm each, and hauling her away. Her flailing arms caught Harry in the cheek and he grunted, raising his shoulder protect himself.

“Get off me, you heathen sons of whores! How dare you? This is trespassing! Leave now, or I shall call the police!”

“Go ahead!” yelled Ginny. She was leaning over the fence, obviously sitting on one of the twins’ shoulders, and she had her phone pointed into the garden. “I’ve got video of you attacking Credence, let’s see whose side they’re on.”

She shoved Harry and Ron away and they stepped back to help Credence up. His nose was bleeding, and he seemed incapable of standing fully upright, his shoulders hunched so low he could barely look ahead of him.

“Credence is _my_ son, for all my sins, and I shall raise him to be a God-fearing member of society. It’s none of your business how I choose to discipline him when he strays from the path of righteousness.”

“You’re wrong,” said Harry, his heart beating fast with fear and fury. “You have no right to hurt anyone like this, not even your own child.”

 _“Especially_ not your own child!” Ron sounded appalled.

“The laws of this country have nothing on the laws of our Lord and Saviour. Credence has succumbed to temptation and I will send the devil fleeing his body and mind!”

“You’re crazy!”

“Please, don’t!” Credence cried, pulling forward, his entire body trembling. “Ma, I’m… I’ll be good, I swear, just please don’t hurt them.”

“Credence, no!”

“Harry, please go? Just—“

“Harry?” Mary Lou shrieked. “This is the form of the devil! This is the face of temptation, that draws my son into sin!” She stepped forward, lightning quick, and slapped Harry hard across the face with the back of her hand.

Harry must be out of practice. Too much kindness and soft living, he thought, as stars burst across his vision, and he fell, elbow up to protect himself from the next blow.

But it never came. With a roar, Credence leaped forwards and punched his mother, screaming unintelligibly. Ron struggled to hold his arm back as he knelt over her, his face a mask of fury Harry hadn’t known he was capable of. “You don’t touch him! Don’t _touch_ him or I swear I’ll kill you… I’ll _kill_ you!”

“Credence!” Harry got himself in between them somehow, wrapping an arm around Credence’s chest, pushing him back or embracing him, he wasn’t sure which. “It’s OK, back up, now, love.” 

“I’ll kill her!” he snarled.

“But then you’ll go to jail and I don’t want that — _you_ don’t want that.”

He was struggling less, but his voice still sounded like a bottomless pit. “She hurt you - she _fucking_ —“

“I’m OK, look.” He held Credence’s injured hand up to the side of his face, and their skin stung together. “I’m OK, and you’re OK.”

“I will not have this,” Mary Lou Barebone’s voice was slightly slurred and the vicious, vengeful part of Harry hoped Credence had done some damage. He turned just enough to keep her in his sight, while still keeping his body almost entirely in contact with Credence’s.

Mary Lou wiped her face with the back of her hand and sneered at Credence like he was shit on her shoe. “Your sin is too deeply ingrained, boy. A disobedient child, I will train in the ways of the Lord, but you! To raise your hand to your own mother—“

“Hey, you fucking started it!” Ron yelled.

She spat on the floor in front of them. “Get out of my sight. Get out of my house, you are no son of mine. Take thee to Satan, sodomite, whore and—“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, woman, will you shut up?” Ron grabbed Harry and Credence. “Let’s go, it’s fucking freezing out here and I’m not listening to this batty old fart sprout any more bullshit.”

George whooped from the other side of the fence as Mary Lou sputtered. “That’s my brother!”

“That’s our ickle Ronniekins!”

“Mum would be so proud of your foul language!”

Ron rolled his eyes and started towards the fence, but Credence stopped him. He held his mother’s gaze, staring down his abuser. “I’m leaving through the front door.”

“Yeah, all right mate, that’ll be easier.”

They ignored Mary Lou, still ranting. She was quoting scripture by now, Harry was pretty sure he recognised some of the madder verses from Revelations and Leviticus. Credence barely spared her a glance.

“Do you want to pick your stuff up?”

He nodded and ran up to his room, returning with a backpack of school books. “She burned my card from you and Chastity’s letters, but I memorised her address weeks ago.”

Harry nodded. “You can write as soon as you settle in with me and Sirius.”

He paused for a moment, uncertainty cracking the stony facade he’d had up since he hit his mum. “Is that… can I still stay?”

Harry laughed in relief. “God, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREDENCE KICKS ASS!! I'd love to hear what you think about the escape! The rest of this fic is focused on a few aspects of recovery, there will be a lot of fluff, I think the boys have earned it! A few difficult parts too, because I don't want to gloss over it and make it seem like recovery from child abuse is easy, as much as I really wish it was...


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Weasley is unintentionally triggering to both boys, but they get through it all together.
> 
> Also Weasley kids are amazing.

The three of them walked the long way round, up to the main road and down the next cul-de-sac to the Weasley’s house. Lights were on in the kitchen and Ron groaned loudly. “Oh, bloody hell, Mum’s up.”

Harry felt Credence’s hand spasm in his own, his shoulders hunching. His heart sank as they got closer and heard raised voices.

“—can’t believe I have to wake up to find three of my children peering over to next door’s garden—”

“She was beating him, Mum!”

“—at 3am having some shouting match—“

“She’s a proper nutcase—“

“—with that mad evangelical—“

“If you just watch the video—“

“Oh and _you_ , young lady, siting on Fred’s shoulders—“

“It was George!”

“Taking videos of the poor old bat like some happy-slapping—“

“Poor bat?! She hit Harry!”

Mrs Weasley froze mid-rant. “I’m sorry, she did what?”

Credence was almost vibrating with anxiety next to Harry, and he gave in and wrapped his arm around him as Ron rang the doorbell.

“Ronald Weasley!” Mrs Weasley exploded out of the front door, a ball of ginger righteousness in a fluffy dressing gown. Credence jumped and hunched further, like he was trying to shrink into his own shoes. Even Harry, his face still stinging, jumped and tightened his grip on Credence’s shoulder. He grimaced and kicked himself. It had been a long time since anyone’s parents had looked like a threat.

“She was beating him, Mum,” said Ron, before Mrs Weasley could get up a good head of steam. “She left him out in the garden.”

“He was freezing to death,” said Ginny, poking her head into the hallway.

“And she hit Harry,” the twins chorused behind her.

Mrs Weasley’s face did some emotional gymnastics, and for just a moment Harry thought she was going to laugh it off - _don’t be silly, it can’t be that bad, you’re exaggerating, everyone has arguments with their parents._

“Bring him in,” she said instead, her voice so soft it made Harry want to cry. “Come here, boys, oh, look at you Harry sweetheart.” She cupped his cheek and bit her lip. Up close maybe that uncertainty looked a little bit more like despair. Like _how could she, how could anyone, why can’t I save them all?_

“Credence’s back is bleeding, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said softly.

“Oh, love,” she said, turning to him. He glanced up at her, out of the corner of his eye. She turned away with a sniffle and cleared her throat. “Come on now,” she said briskly. “Into the kitchen with you. Ginny, get the first aid kit, Fred, make hot chocolate, George, get the blankets, Ron, get the painkillers, would you?”

Harry guided Credence over to a stool at the breakfast bar. He sat down gingerly, stiff as an old man. The adrenaline seemed to be draining now Mrs Weasley wasn’t an immediate threat. “It’s so warm,” he whispered, flexing the fingers on his uninjured hand.

“Well, you know what these old council houses are like,” said Mrs Weasley briskly, ignoring the fact that he was American and sixteen and probably knew nothing about 1950s architecture. “Built to last, they were. Warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Now, would you let me have a look at your injuries?”

“They’re not so bad,” he said, curling over his hand.

“It’s important to get them seen too, though, dear. We don’t want infection to set in, and with you skin and bone like that you’re liable to get really poorly.”

“I’ll go first, if you like,” said Harry. He was pretty sure he didn’t need any first aid, but it might put Credence at ease.

Mrs Weasley hummed, satisfied, and tutted over the bruise forming on his temple. “If I ever get my hands on that woman…” she muttered, dabbing arnica into his skin, and even Credence cracked a tiny smile.

He still wasn’t keen on having his hand and back checked, though. “Well, it’s hardly surprising, is it?” asked Ginny, hands wrapped around the hot chocolate Fred handed her. “He doesn’t know you, Mum, and _his_ mum’s been hurting him for God knows how long.”

Credence curled up a little more, looking up at her guiltily. Harry stood and put his arm around him and he relaxed almost imperceptibly, leaning into him.

Mrs Weasley’s chin wobbled jut a little. “Of course, dear,” she said. “Look, Ron knows what to do, would you three like to go up to his room and sort it out between you?”

Harry leaned back to catch Credence’s eye, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Credence nodded, and rose with a wince.

Mrs Weasley handed Ron the first aid kit with a kiss, and held herself back from kissing Harry because of how Credence was leaning on him. She bit her lip and pressed her hands to her mouth. “I’m so very sorry this has happened to you, you poor boy,” she whispered, tears escaping and tracking down her cheeks. As Harry led Credence upstairs, the twins and Ginny wrapped their mum in a four-way hug.

Credence’s hand was bruised across the knuckles, and his palm was friction-burned and bloody. But his back was a horror story. Harry and Ron didn’t bother to hide their tears from each other as they gently bathed his stripped skin with antiseptic, putting gauze patches on the worst wounds, where lines had crossed or the belt buckle had been used. Finding bare skin to stick them down was another matter, though, and Harry thought they’d have been better off wrapping his torso up in one giant bandage. By the time he crept into bed top to tail with Ron because Credence had fallen fast asleep face down in the air bed, he thought he should have let Credence beat Mary Lou Barebone as much as he wanted.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you need is...

He woke up to a gentle hand brushing through his hair, weak winter sunlight in his eyes. “Sirius?” he said sleepily, peering at the blurry figure.

“Shh,” he said, handing Harry his glasses. “Credence is still asleep.”

They looked down at him, gauze covered back rising and falling with every breath. “Siri… please can he stay with us? I- I know it’s a lot to ask but—“

“Of course, pup,” he said, brushing his fingers through Harry’s tangled hair. He brushed over a tender spot on his cheek and Harry flinched a little. “Sorry,” Sirius winced. “God, if I ever see that _bitch_ I’ll—“

He cut himself off as Credence moved, stretching and wincing as it pulled on his back. He froze as he caught sight of Sirius, his eyes wide and waiting.

“I’ll leave you boys to get ready,” Sirius said, patting Harry’s back. “See you downstairs. Molly is threatening to feed me up and I’m not going to waste such an opportunity.”

“Hey,” said Harry as the door closed behind Sirius. He slipped off Ron’s bed to sit next to Credence and they laughed softly as the air bed shifted, tipping them towards each other. “How are you?”

He nodded. “I’m fine. I’m… good.” He fiddled with the gauze on his hand, and laughed, but tears started pouring down his cheeks. Harry pulled him close and he pressed his face into his neck.

“She’s really gone,” he sobbed. “She… she always threatened to l-leave me because I was so wicked and sinful and… and she really did it. I d-don’t have a mom any more, I d- I don’t have anyone.”

His sobs rose higher and higher, almost turning to panic, and Harry pressed kiss after kiss onto his head, eyes prickling with his own tears. “You’re not alone, Credence, you’ve got me - you’ll _always_ have me, I love you.”

Eventually his sobs turned to exhausted sniffling and he lay slumped on Harry’s lap. “I know you think I should forget her,” he said quietly, too tired to put any strength behind it. “But she’s my mom and… I don’t know, I guess she loved me. In her own way. She did what she thought was right.”

Harry paused before opening his mouth, because honestly, what did he know? His aunt and uncle had never let him believe they loved him. He couldn’t remember his own parents. Mr and Mrs Weasley would never treat their kids like that but then they had seven and that wasn’t exactly typical. Maybe they were the exception. Maybe cruelty in the name of parental love _was_ normal.

He sighed and stroked the short, spiky hair at the bottom of Credence’s uneven bowl cut. Even that looked like it had been done hatefully. “You can feel however you feel,” he said slowly, trying to find the right words. “It’s OK to love her, it’s OK to miss her. But… maybe it’s not love that matters. If she loved you but didn’t accept or… or _like_ you, that all ended up with you getting hurt. And that’s not OK. Love shouldn’t hurt you like that.”

Credence laughed. “So the Beatles were wrong, huh? Love isn’t all you need?”

Harry grinned down at him and sang out of tune. “All you need is acceptance, and care and trust!”

“Acceptance is all you need!” he sang back, and they cackled at each other.

Sirius pushed the door open. “Oi, come on you two - what are you doing? You aren’t even dressed - Harry James Potter, I _will_ eat your hash browns.”

Harry giggled. “I accept that.”

Credence nearly wept with laughter. “I accept you very much, Harry.”

“I accept you too, Credence.”

“What are you two on about?” Sirius groaned. “Come downstairs and eat your breakfast, you pair of weirdos!”

He left them giggling together on the air bed. Credence sat up and pressed his head to Harry’s. “I accept you very much,” he whispered, and Harry felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter to life.

“I accept you too,” he said, and tilted his head to kiss him softly on the lips.


	11. Chapter 10 - Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolute, complete, fluffy Christmas fluff! I should totally have planned this earlier and not put the fic up until I could get this posted on Christmas eve or something, but I actually didn't write this chapter until I started posting!

“I hate her,” Credence hissed on Christmas Eve. They were lying on the sofa bed, Harry staring out of the window at the bare branches of the rowan tree outside, wondering how much longer he could stay there before having to creep back into his own bed.

He rolled over and stroked Credence’s shoulder, rigid with fury. “I hate her,” Credence said again, and he could hear how his jaw was clenched, the words hissed out between his teeth.

“You’re allowed to hate her,” Harry said. 

He rolled over and glared at him, but there was a fear not far beneath the fury burning there. “I hate her so much, I could… I could kill her.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his glasses shifting uncomfortably, trapped by the pillow. “You know, you can’t scare me off like that. I hate her too.”

The hard mask faded away, leaving his sad eyes begging Harry for something. He didn’t know what, so he leaned forwards and kissed him.

“You don’t think it’s evil? To hate your own mother?” he whispered.

“Of course not. She’s the evil one! She hurt you, Credence, she hurt you for years, it’s a miracle you came out of there as kind and caring as you are.”

“I should have got out earlier.”

“How?” he asked. “Where would you have gone?”

“I should have been stronger—“

“You were a child. I mean, legally we still are, I guess. But you survived, and that’s amazing - that’s _so_ strong. You came through the other side and you’re hurt, but you’re _here_. You know how awesome you are?”

Credence looked at him for a long moment. Then he shifted closer, took Harry’s glasses off and kissed him again, lifting himself up on his elbow and covering him, chest to chest. Harry gasped into the kiss and dug his fingers into his hair, luxuriating in the feeling of having him safe and strong and free and _here_. When he pulled back he was breathing hard, his face burning. “We’re going to get in so much trouble if we carry on like that.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, and pulled back, tucking himself in on his front so there was a good foot of mattress and duvet between them. 

Harry regretted speaking immediately. “You don’t have to go that far.”

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered, smiling up at him. “You’re supposed to be in your own bed, anyway.”

Harry rolled his eyes and took his glasses back. “Fine, I guess. If you’re going to be the sensible one.”

“You started it.”

He was pretty sure he had something smart to say back. But when he saw the moonlight falling on Credence’s pale skin, casting shadows across his ethereal face, he forgot all of them. He reached out and linked their fingers together. Credence watched him with a small smile on his face, and stroked his knuckles with his thumb. They fell asleep smiling at each other.

***

“Wake up! Wake up, you sleepy heads!”

Harry blinked and winced as his glasses shifted, leaving a painful pressure point on the bridge of his nose and the bruise on his temple. 

“It’s Christmas morning!” Sirius whisper-shrieked. “And you! You, Harry James Potter, are no fun whatsoever.”

“Huh?”

Sirius was standing at the foot of the sofa bed, pointing a bony, tattooed finger at him. “You’re supposed to be in your own bed so I can jump on you at 6am. That’s what we _do_. I can’t jump on you now! That’d mean I’m jumping on Credence’s bed too, and we don’t know each other well enough for that!”

“That’s not why they’re in trouble,” Remus called from the kitchen.

“Yes it is! That’s totally what the problem is with this situation, I don’t get to jump on Harry’s bed and wake him up on Christmas morning, it’s our thing!”

Remus appeared at the doorway, an apron on over his pyjamas already. “No, they’re in trouble because they’re teenage boyfriends and they’re not old enough to be sharing a bed.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oh, like we weren’t sh—“

“Don’t you _dare_ , Sirius!”

“—sharing a bed in a completely chaste manner at that age,” he said, blinking innocently. “Why, what did you think I was going to say, Remus?”

Remus narrowed his eyes and shook his head, but Harry could see the smile threatening under his mock stern face. Sirius turned back to them. “Well, get up then! Santa came last night!”

Harry laughed, because sure enough, the tree that had been bare the night before was now scattered with badly wrapped parcels. He scrambled out of bed and went to brush his teeth and pull on a dressing gown. By the time he came back, the bed had been folded back into a sofa, and Credence was sitting with his bandaged hand wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate, and the duvet draped over his shoulders. “I don’t know any of the traditions,” he whispered to Harry as he sat next to him, snuggling close.

“That’s OK,” Harry said back, kissing his cheek. “Just go along with Sirius and humour him.”

Remus brought out scrambled eggs on toast, followed by Sirius, whining loudly. “Breakfast before presents, Re? You’re so boring! Tell him, boys!” Harry laughed and took his plate. Sirius slumped onto the armchair sulkily. “You’re a traitor. What kind of kid are you? You should be tearing at the wrapping paper already!”

He looked at the fluffy, creamy egg on wholemeal toast and shook his head, chopping off a huge mouthful to cram into his mouth. Dudley had been like that, tearing through the mountain of presents under the tree before even considering breakfast. He’d then whined after breakfast if there weren’t more presents, and they’d usually be gone by eleven, off to Grandma Dursley’s for Christmas lunch, leaving Harry in peace. Christmas to him had always been cold and quiet, and he thought, looking around the sitting room now, that maybe that had been true for all of them.

Sirius, he knew, had spent his childhood in a cold, formal household, rigid and strict, where Christmas was opulent and impressive, but only for the guests. Remus barely talked about his childhood, but Harry knew he’d spent most of it in and out of hospital. And Credence… well, his every day had been a nightmare of tension and fear. Harry wanted to make Christmas bright and warm and loving, with silly little gifts and rich food and people who loved him.

He looked up at Sirius, who’d finished his own breakfast and was now bouncing on his chair, his eyes sparkling. He thought maybe he knew why Sirius always made such a big deal of Christmas for Harry.

“Come on then, Sirius,” he said, a grin spreading across his face as he swallowed the last of his egg. “Can we give out the presents now?”

They both looked at Remus who rolled his eyes and waved them on. They scrambled to their knees to the foot of the tree and pulled out the gifts, Harry’s heart rate picking up at the performance. “Credence, here’s one for you!”

Credence almost choked. “Wh- me? But I—“

“It’s from Remy and me,” Sirius said, whipping it out of Harry’s hand and passing it up.

“But… but—“

“You’re going to need it today,” Remus said, smiling fondly.

“Thank you,” he said, peeling the sellotape back in awe.

“Rip it!” Sirius yelled. Harry laughed and joined in, and they both cheered when Credence tore the paper. 

He held up a fluffy green dressing gown, his eyes wide. “It’s like yours.”

Harry nodded and stroked the soft fabric of his own. “The house gets cold in the mornings, it’s not as well insulated as the Weasley’s.”

“And it’s a Black-Lupin-Potter household tradition to wear dressing gowns all day on Christmas,” Sirius nodded. “Well, now it’s a Black-Lupin-Potter-Barebone tradition, isn’t it?”

Credence’s head snapped to him and Harry thought he might cry. Instead, he stood up, letting the duvet slump behind him, and tugged the dressing gown on, snugging into it with his eyes shut in bliss. Harry had to admit to himself that he was starting to get a bit of a thing about seeing his boyfriend warm and safe.

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius said, snapping him out of it. “This one’s yours.”

***

Sirius and Remus were dozing in front of the telly, Sirius draped over Remus’ lap. There was soft jingle bell music every time the programme went to an advert, and the lights on the tree were flickering red to blue to green and back. Harry beckoned to Credence and the two boys crept out quietly.

Credence tucked his new dressing gown around him and took the hot chocolate Harry held out. They crammed their feet into their trainers and slipped the door open to the garden. The frost crunched underfoot and their breath condensed into thick clouds of white the moment it touched the frigid air. Harry shivered and looked up at the stars.

“No chance of snow,” he said. “Shame.”

“I don’t mind,” Credence shrugged. “It used to snow a lot in December back in New York. Just meant frostbite for us.”

“When it snows here, we’ll go out and enjoy it,” he promised. “Make some better memories.”

“You already have,” he said, nudging Harry and pressing his cold nose into his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered, gripping his dressing gown.

“Me too. I never thought this was possible. I thought it was a pipe dream, that… that family like this wasn’t meant for someone like me.”

Harry couldn’t find the words, couldn’t push them past the prickling in his throat. Instead he kissed Credence, cold lips and warm tongues brushing and pressing. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so nearly it! I've just got one chapter to go, one last little bit of angst, because things are not all perfect for the boys. Credence has a long way to go to recover, and honestly, so does Harry. But no matter what, they'll be there for each other, and they'll recover together.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has to learn that he can't be everything to Credence, and they're both going to need outside help to get over their trauma... but they'll be there for each other, too

He wanted to be everything to Credence. He wanted to give him everything he’d had withheld, to make up for the horrific childhood - well, it was hardly a childhood at all. Harry wanted to make it all better, the way Sirius had done for him.

And most of the time, he was all Credence needed. For weeks, things were so perfect it might all have been a dream. New Years came and went, school started, Credence’s wounds healed up. Even Remus got used to seeing them curled up together on Credence’s sofa bed every morning, though he still insisted they shouldn’t be sharing a room at their age. Sirius by himself would have been easier to convince, but Remus had always been the voice of reason, and Sirius tended to rely on him to set the rules about what was reasonable behaviour. Harry just had to roll his eyes and bear it, at least for now.

School started again, and Credence studied hard, working steadily through the backlog of subjects he had to catch up on, and Harry walked around school like he was the king of the world. His boyfriend was safe and happy and loved. He had warm clothes that fit him, his vicious haircut was growing out into soft waves, and he didn’t have to go home to fear and vitriol.

Then came the letter. 

It arrived with the afternoon register, tucked in along with all the other notices. Credence took it from Mrs Trelawney and his eyes widened as he saw the handwriting. He shoved it into his pocket, his hands shaking, and turned to his work, ignoring Harry’s look.

He was quiet for the rest of the afternoon. Harry desperately wanted to make him happy, tried to distract him by working hard on their maths paper, leaning over to him and quizzing him on the questions, making sure he understood everything. He gripped his hand tightly when they finished and walked home, but Credence was staring down at the road as he walked, his hand barely holding back. Harry frowned and wracked his brains, because he had to make it _better_ , he had to help, he just didn’t know how.

He was so wound up by the time they got home that there was a high pitched ringing in his ears. He was worried that he’d been babbling and irritating Credence, so he bit his lip and lapsed into silence, running through plans and thinking about what he could do, what Credence might like, how to solve the problem and fight the invisible battles. 

Credence sat cross legged on the sofa and pulled the letter out of his pocket, turning it over and over in his hands. Harry chewed his lip and stared at the back of his head, and in the end, decided to make some tea, and say hi to Sirius and Remus, making dinner and talking about Sirius’ upcoming night shift.

When he came back to the sitting room, two full mugs in hand, Credence had the letter open in front of him and was staring into space, his jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“Hey,” Harry said softly. “Everything OK?”

Credence didn’t reply, just glared at the carpet. Harry put a cup down in front of him. “Can I help?” Nothing. “Can… can you tell me what happened?”

He held out the letter to him without a word, still staring, still clenching, still furious. 

“Credence,” the letter read. “As you are no longer willing to live by my rules and abide by the laws of God, I have no choice but to cut all ties with you. I shall be returning to New York next month, and good riddance to you and this heathen country. I have enclosed your passport in this letter, along with your birth certificate. I suppose my one consolation is that you were never my son. I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, and have clearly wasted these last fifteen years attempting to care for someone fated to disappoint me. Your birth mother was a whore, so it’s hardly surprising to see the end you have come to. Do not try to contact me again. Mary-Lou Barebone, no longer your mother.”

“Holy shit, Credence,” Harry breathed. “Holy… are you OK?”

Credence was still for a moment more before exploding. In one swift movement he leaped to his feet, howling in rage and throwing the cup of tea across the room where it smashed on the wall.

Harry’s mind whited out, and in an instant he was ten years old again, Uncle Vernon was angry with him for stealing food, and any moment now he was going to be kicked and dragged into the cupboard. He crouched, his arms coming up around his face, his head ducking down and every sense alert to movement, sound, danger, danger, danger.

Almost as soon as he’d shrunk down to protect himself, he remembered where he was, and, furious, he unfolded himself. This was no time for him to regress, he was fine, he had been fine for years, he knew he was safe! Credence needed him. He forced his hands down from around his face, forced himself to stand tall though his heart was thundering. 

But it was too late. Remus and Sirius had heard Credence screaming and were already rushing in from the kitchen. They had all seen Harry being weak, and Credence’s face… 

“Harry… oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”

Remus took the letter from Harry and turned Credence away pulling him towards the door. “Come on, lad, let’s talk about this letter, shall we? I’ll take you out to the park, you can tell me all about it and throw things into the reservoir, how about that?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t…”

“Don’t you worry about Harry, Sirius is looking after him.” 

Remus’ voice faded as the door clicked shut behind them, and Harry stared after them, open mouthed and gaping. “I wasn’t scared,” he cried. “I wasn’t… let me go after him, I’ve got to help, Sirius, Credence needs me, I was _fine!”_

Sirius put his arms around Harry’s shoulder and held him still. “Let Remy sort Credence out, OK, pup? You can’t fix everything, you know.”

“But… I didn’t mean to flinch, I didn’t want to… _fuck!”_ He scrubbed at his face, realised his hands were shaking, and shoved them into his pockets. “I want to help him.”

Sirius sat him down and took a seat on the coffee table opposite him, his dark eyes holding his very solemnly. “Harry, I know you want to make everything better for Credence, but you can’t. This isn’t your job.”

“Yes it _is_ , Sirius, I’m his boyfriend, and I said I’d be there for him… how can I be there for him if he thinks I’m going to get freaked out every time he gets upset? Damn it!” Harry smacked himself in the head and swallowed back tears. How much damage had he done with his stupid reaction?

“Harry, please,” Sirius said, pulling his wrists. He looked close to tears himself. “You’re a traumatised fifteen year old boy, this is _not your job_. Credence has been through an awful, awful situation, and he’s only just beginning to come to terms with what was done to him, but you’re also dealing with your own trauma, and you’re not going to be able to do this alone. Nobody’s expecting you to.”

“But if I don’t, then—“

“Look, Remus and I were going to talk to you about it this weekend, but… we think you both need to go to therapy. We’ve been talking to that social worker, Mrs Pomfrey, she’s Credence’s key worker as well as yours, and she agrees that you’d both benefit from talking to someone.”

“But… but I talk to you…”

“And you still can. But…” he shook his head and laughed slightly. “Shit, Harry, I’m still dealing with my own fucked up childhood, I’m not in much of a position to help you develop into a healthy, well-rounded adult. You need someone who’s not going to bring their own baggage into the relationship to listen to all of your problems and help you deal with them.”

Harry sagged. “I just wanted to help him,” he whispered. “I thought I could help him.”

“You’re helping him _so much_ , pup, you’ve single-handedly changed his life! And I know you’re going to be so important to him while he deals with all this, but you can’t _fix_ him. You still need help to deal with your own abuse, and I’m annoyed with myself that I didn’t get this sorted before.” He shook his head. “You’re just such a bloody helpful, kind kid, it’s hard to remember that you’ve gone through hell yourself.”

Harry deflated, his shoulders sagging. He closed his eyes and now he’d stopped fighting it, he could feel the aftershocks of adrenaline trembling through his body. “When will I stop being scared?” he whispered. “When will I be able to deal with stuff like this without flinching like… like some stray dog?”

Sirius smiled sadly. “It does get better,” he said. “Being around people you trust, learning you’ve got power over your own world… it makes things easier. But it doesn’t go in a straight line. And there’s no formula to it, either - you’ll just have to be gentle with yourself and take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t want Credence to think he can’t tell me stuff, though,” he said, blinking up at Sirius miserably. “If he thinks I’m going to flinch and freak out every time he gets upset, then—“

“Then he’ll control his anger? Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, would it?” Sirius moved to sit on the sofa next to him and pulled him into a hug. “Credence needs help, yes. And you can help him - you do help him, just by being there for him, being someone he can trust. But you can’t help to… I don’t know, to raise him the way his mum should have! That’s not your job. Honestly, if you were both adults, and if you’d had a healthy upbringing, it _still_ wouldn’t be. You’re his boyfriend, not his therapist.”

Harry sighed and leaned into Sirius’ shoulder, and wished he could fix it all by magic.

***

Credence knocked on his door frame an hour later, standing hunched over and twisting his fingers together. “Hey… may I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, scrambling up and moving over so Credence could perch on his bed. “Are you OK?”

He nodded. “Harry, I’m so sorry… I… when I saw you there with your hands up because I’d lost my temper, I just… I hated myself.”

His voice faded to almost nothing, and Harry was quick to reach out and pull him close. “Please don’t. I’m sorry—“

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said fiercely, his face pressed against Harry’s neck. “I lost my temper, and I just… I should know better! I _know_ how bad it is when someone throws stuff, and I still… Remus made me clean up the tea, and I swear, I’ll never do it again, I’m so sorry.”

Harry wrapped his arms tight around him like he could hold their broken pieces together long enough for them to stick. “It’s OK. We’ll sort this out, we’ll get better, both of us.”

“I’m never going to let myself be like her,” Credence said, his voice trembling. “I’m not going to be scary and violent, I’m _not_ , I swear. I’m so sorry.”

Harry hushed and rocked him, his eyes shut tight against the grief and exhaustion of having to tear down everything they’d learned over their entire life, just to build it up stronger. “We’ll make it work,” he promised over and over, wrapped around Credence. “We’ll get better, together.”

At last Credence relaxed and leaned into him more loosely. “Remus took me out to throw stones into the pond,” he said, and Harry could feel Credence’s smile against his neck, where he’d pressed his face. “He said it was much cleaner than mopping up tea every time. But he also said I’ve got to go to therapy.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Harry. “Every week, apparently.”

“I’m sorry,” Credence sighed. “If I’d just controlled myself—“

“They’ve been talking about it for a while, apparently,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Sirius said they should have sorted it out for me back when I moved here, but you being here has just bumped our case up to the top of the priority list. It’s a good thing, Credence.”

“Is it?” he asked softly.

He nodded decisively. “We can’t fix each other,” he admitted. “We can help each other, but… well, it would be the blind leading the blind, wouldn’t it? But I promise I’ll always be here for you. We can talk about anything, whether you’ve already gone over it with your therapist or not. You don’t have to keep it from me to save my feelings or anything.”

Credence smiled up at him and shuffled closer to kiss him on the cheek. “You too,” he said. “I know you’re trying to be my knight in shining armour, but this goes both ways. I’m here for you too.”

Harry smiled, warmth spreading through his chest. The sunset painted pink and orange across his bedroom wall as Credence snuggled against him, and he could see the way ahead for both of them. They’d both come so far on their own, and survived so much. Now, at last, they had people to lean on, people who loved them and wanted them to thrive. He pressed a kiss to Credence’s smiling cheek and linked their hands together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... thank you SO MUCH for following along with this story, and commenting, and generally being lovely! This was so self indulgent, and I'm so attached to these boys and their ship now lol! If anyone else ever writes something else with these two together hit me up on Tumblr and let me know. I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you again!


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by DarklingImp!
> 
> Five years after the escape, Harry and Credence save up enough money to visit Chastity and Modesty in New York...

Harry pulled his scarf on and leaned around the corner. “Are you coming, Credence?”

“Yeah, be with you in a second.”

He pulled his hat out of his jacket pocket and made a face in the grubby mirror, twisting his mouth to see if he’d missed any spots shaving. The plane from London had arrived late the previous night, and although the time difference to New York wasn’t that long, he still felt a little bit groggy from the journey and the lumpy hostel mattress.

Credence joined him, pulling his own coat on and dragging his fingers through his long hair. “You got the address?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded, doing up his buttons.

“What about the present for Modesty?”

“Yes, and the chocolates for Chastity.”

“God, my hair looks awful, should I wash it? I should wash it, we’ve got time, haven’t we—”

“Credence, stop,” he said, turning and pulling him around by the lapels. He started buttoning his coat, his hands steady while Credence’s fluttered around him like nervous butterflies. “We don’t have time, and you washed your hair last night. It looks great. It suits you. And…” he smiled up at him, leaned up on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. “Your sister and your niece don’t care what you look like. They’re just excited to see you, because you’ve been planning this trip, and saving for this for five years. OK?”

He let out a long breath. “OK,” he said, nodding. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

“Do you have the subway map?”

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yes, Credence, I also have the map you printed off with Chastity’s apartment block marked on it, and the platform numbers, and the timings. And do you know what I also have? I have my very own born and bred New Yorker who’s got fifteen years of memories that will come right back to him the moment we step onto the streets in daylight.”

Credence grinned sheepishly. “I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

“Everything will be perfect,” he said. “Because you’re going to be seeing your sister, and you’ve been writing to her for years, and you love each other. But you know what? It’s not going to go exactly the way you _expected_ , because that’s not the same thing, OK?”

“Yes, boss,” Credence taunted, rolling his eyes.

“Excellent, now, let’s go.”

“You got the money?”

He laughed and pushed the door open. “Yes, Credence, I have my money. Have you?”

There was a pause, and Harry turned back, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “No…”

Harry closed the door. “I’ll wait here then.”

***

The fifteen minute subway journey, followed by a ten minute walk, was just enough to get Credence so worked up that he was almost vibrating out of his skin. Harry was starting to consider getting him to sit on the sidewalk somewhere to write in his notebook, a surefire way to get him to spend excess anxiety, when he changed direction suddenly, dragging Harry behind him.

“We’re here,” he said, looking up at the brick tower. 

“Great,” Harry said, stepping forward to press the doorbell.

“No, wait.” Credence tugged him back, and he nearly fell down the stairs. “Sorry,” Credence said, steadying him. “I just… I need… what if…”

Harry stood the step above him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close so that his face tucked into his neck. “Just breathe, baby. You’re OK. I love you.”

Credence took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just need to catch my breath,” he whispered.

“OK, we can do that.”

He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and squeezed him tight. Harry closed his eyes and nuzzled into his hair, waiting for him to calm down enough to pull back.

“Right,” he said, sniffing sharply and bouncing up the stoop past Harry. “Let’s do this.”

“Onward,” Harry grinned, following.

The intercom buzzed, and a woman’s voice answered slightly breathlessly. “Hello?”

Credence cleared his throat. “Ch- Chastity?”

“Credence,” she breathed. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.” His face broke into that grin that Harry could never turn away from, the one that transformed his face into pure sunshine and never failed to make him grin back like a lovestruck idiot. “It’s me. Hey.”

“Oh my—well, come in, I’ve just buzzed you. I’ll, uh…”

“I’ll come up… I’ll see you in a min, OK?”

“Yeah, see you real soon.”

“Bye…”

“Credence,” said Harry. “If we don’t go now the door will latch again.”

“Right, yeah. Bye, Chas…”

Harry pushed the door open and tugged gently on Credence’s arm, dragging him into the building. They climbed the three flights of stairs in silence, shoulder to shoulder, until they reached the door. Credence took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Mommy, the door! The door, Mommy, they’re here, can I open it please?”

“No, Modesty, you know you can’t open the door. Move back, please, let’s let Uncle Credence in.”

Credence was already smiling so hard his eyes were crinkled half closed. Harry glanced up at him and grinned to himself, stepping aside so he could just observe.

The door opened to a small, delicately boned woman with a curly blonde bob. She looked up at Credence, her huge, pale eyes widening further. “Credence,” she said on a breath.

“Hey, Chastity,” he said, his voice soft and twanging more than usual with his old New York accent. “God, it’s so good to see you.”

There was the slightest hesitation, then they both fell forwards into each other’s arms, hugging tight. Chastity’s eyes were squeezed shut, and she clutched at Credence like she was afraid he was going to be torn away from her again. He almost lifted her off her feet. When they pulled back, still holding on to each other’s arms, their eyes were ever so slightly damp.

“And this must be Modesty,” Credence said, looking down at a tiny blonde girl. She was clutching Chastity’s leg and peering up at Credence from under her pale lashes, nibbling and pinching on her lower lip. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, waving.

“Say hello, Modesty,” said Chastity, turning and tugging on her gently.

“No, that’s OK, I don’t mind if she’s shy,” said Credence quickly. He smiled quickly down at her, and she hid her own smile in Chastity’s jeans. “This is Harry, my fiancé.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” said Chastity with a smile, and Harry could see the family resemblance at last. That gentle, compassionate curling of the cheeks was pure Credence, even though their colouring was totally different. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand and waving his fingertips at Modesty. 

“Please, come in,” she said, fluttering a little. “You must be exhausted from the journey, how was your flight?”

They followed her in, exchanging pleasantries as she stumbled over a still-clinging Modesty. The flat was tiny, but clean, with a few battered dolls and books scattered over the sofa and the table. Chastity made a face at Modesty every now and then, shoving her toys at her in embarrassment when she came across them. “I told you to keep your stuff _away_ , Modesty, come on, now.”

“But I wanted to show Uncle Credence,” she said, and turned to him, holding up a wolf plushie. “Do you want to see Woofles?”

“I’d love to see Woofles,” Credence said, crouching down to get closer. Modesty lit up and ran over, showing off one toy after another. Chastity smiled at them, and started the kettle for tea.

The air of tense awkwardness disappeared quickly after Modesty forgot her temporary shyness. “This is much more like it,” Chastity confided in them. “She’s never usually shy, I was so surprised when she hid behind my legs at the door! As you can see, she’s pretty hard to shut up.”

Harry was delighted to settle back and watch Credence reconnect with the only part of his family that mattered. The last five years had been a long journey to recovery for the both of them, and there were still bad days. But they mostly faded into the background as they helped each other move forward. Credence knew that Harry had trouble with hypervigilance, and always watched out for darting eyes and clenched fists in busy areas, while Harry knew that sometimes Credence needed to get angry, and sent him out on walks to the supermarket to buy something when he started to clench his jaw too hard. They communicated, and experimented, and worked hard to help each other, and never, since they first met, had they stopped loving each other. 

“How do you find it?” Harry asked Chastity softly as they watched Credence sit cross legged on the floor surrounded by plastic animals while Modesty explained their complicated life stories. “If you don’t mind me asking… you’ve never had a good role model when it comes to parenting. How do you find your way?”

She laughed and leaned back against the counter as he dried the last plate. “You think I know what the way is? I’m making it all up as I go along. But I think that’s true for all parents.” She glanced up out of the corner of her eye. “Have you guys… considered it?”

He shook his head. “Not really. We’ve both been concentrating on school and university and… I don’t know what he’s told you about my childhood? But we’ve both been trying to deal with a lot of recovery stuff, so we haven’t really had an opportunity.”

She nodded. “If I’d had the chance, I’d want to get myself healthy first. At the moment therapy for myself isn’t really an option. It’s so expensive here.”

He made a face. “Sorry.”

She shook her head and placed a chilly hand on his arm. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m so glad you’re both getting help. I always wished… well, Credence always got the worst of it, I’m afraid. I was…” she bit her lips and looked down. “I was the golden child. Ma treated him awfully, I have to admit I was… I was too scared to do anything to protect him in case… in case she turned on me, instead. I’m so ashamed of that now.”

Harry wished he knew her well enough to pull her into a hug. “Please don’t, Chastity. Credence has never said he blames you for anything like that. In fact he once admitted he was relieved she never turned on you, he felt like it was his responsibility to look after his big sister. But honestly, neither of you should ever have been put into that position. There’s only one person to blame here, and it’s not either of you two.”

“I know that,” she said, nodding and smiling up at him. “But it’s still… I can’t explain, I just look back on what I did and didn’t do back then, and wish I could go back in time and snatch him away. Snatch us _both_ away from her. I look at Modesty and imagine what if I saw her in that situation… the Mama Bear thing really is true.”

He smiled and handed her the plate to put away. “I think you’re doing a great job. She’s so happy and confident, look at her!”

“I hope so,” she said, taking a shaky breath. “I guess we won’t know for sure until she’s old enough to judge my parenting for herself!”

He shook his head. “Nah, you’re doing a good job.”

She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “You haven’t seen me when I’m mad at her, or when she’s having a tantrum and I… once I smacked her, and I wanted to _die_. You don’t know… you just can’t know. Nobody does, they only see part of the story, and you can’t possibly know if I really am a good mom. You know, I heard so many people tell my ma she was doing such a great job raising us to be so polite and respectful and it makes me feel sick when people say that to me because… because what if I’m not? What if I’m really abusive and they just don’t know? Who’s going to look out for her, who’s going to save her if I don’t realise I’m being terrible? How does anyone _know?_ ”

“Can I give you a hug?” Harry asked, squeezing her shoulder. “I know I’ve only met you today, but…”

She nodded and he pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest and he rubbed her back as she trembled with suppressed sobs. Harry caught Credence’s eye over her shoulder, and Cre bit his lip, looking worried. 

“Hey, Mod, would you like me to show you the view from your room? You know Mommy was telling us that you can see right through the buildings to the park with the swings?”

“Yeah!” Modesty cheered, jumping to her feet and punching both little fists in the air. “Come on, Uncle Credence, and you can see my doll’s house too! But you have to sit on the bed because there’s no floor space, and my wardrobe’s in Mommy’s room and—”

Her chatter trailed off as she dragged Credence away, and Chastity’s fingers dug into Harry’s shirt as she cried more freely. Harry held her and rocked her and bit back his own tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she said at last, pulling back and wiping her face. She ran cold water in the sink and used a clean dishcloth to pat her puffy eyes. “God, what must you think of me.”

“I think you’re trying bloody hard in a difficult situation,” he said firmly. “I think you’re dealing with all your trauma by yourself, and I have nothing but respect for you. That’s what I think of you, so you cry all you need to. We’re practically family.”

She laughed, almost another sob, and pressed her face into the cloth. “Thank you, Harry. God, you have no idea how glad I was when Credence wrote to me after you got him out of there. It was like you’d rescued a part of me. And every time he told me about moving in with you and your uncles, and how he was going to therapy, and then when he got into college… I still have all his letters, I read them over and over again when I need a lift. Thank you so much.”

Harry shrugged awkwardly and tugged on his earlobe. “It was Sirius and Remus, really. You know Sirius rescued me, yeah?”

She nodded and hung the damp cloth over the radiator. “It’s like a dream come true for every abused child, to be rescued. I’m so glad stories like yours exist.” She wiped her face one last time and filled the kettle. “I’m not alone, though. I do have a support network.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. There’s this group, called Parenting with PTSD, all parents like me who’ve had… abusive childhoods and find their own children trigger things like flashbacks. We get together on Facebook, and support each other, and there’s a bunch of us who message each other when we need support. It’s all a closed group, too, so it’s completely private. Things like this are still so taboo, you know? But I just wanted you to know, I’m not alone. That’s the most important thing, I think. Parents need other parents around to put things in perspective, get an outside view.” She grinned up at him. “Sometimes just to scream about stupid things like nursery and fussy eating and why it is that kids refuse to wear warm coats in winter. Sometimes…” she trailed off and smiled at Credence and Modesty as they wandered back into the room, hand in hand. “Sometimes just to know that you’re not alone.”

“Mommy, Mommy,” Chastity squealed, bouncing into the room. “Uncle Credence said he’s got a present for me, can I open it, please?”

“Of course you may,” she smiled. “Did you say thank you?”

“Thank you!” She grabbed the wrapped teddy and started ripping it open. 

Credence stood next to Chastity, leaning back on the counter, and slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close and kissing her temple. “You OK?” he whispered.

She nodded and linked her arm around his waist. “I’m so glad to see you. Both of you.”

“I’ve missed you, Chas.”

She pulled him closer, and leaned her head on his chest. Credence reached out and tugged Harry by his sleeve until he stumbled closer, bracketing Chastity between them. Modesty looked up. “Family hug!” she yelled, and threw her arms around Harry and Credence’s knees, pressing her tummy against her Mum’s legs, and looked up with a bright grin on her face. 

Chastity laughed and cupped her cheeks, stroking her fine blonde hair off her face. “Family hug,” she agreed, and Harry and Credence curled around, squeezing the four of them close together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Parenting with PTSD](https://parentingwithptsd.wordpress.com/blog/) is an actual real group, I hope this is not a conflict of interest as I was a contributor to the book they brought out a few years ago... I don't get royalties, if that helps, it was just a one-off payment for my essay? But the website is great, there's a whole list of resources for parents, and a lot of supportive blogs there, all of which you can access for free, so I'm not posting this as a plug, but as a resource for other parents in Chastity's situation. And if you want to vent about being triggered by your own children, come hang out on Tumblr, where I'm [Gold-from-Straw](gold-from-straw.tumblr.com). You're welcome to ask me stuff on anon if you need to, I mean, not like I'm a huge fountain of information but I don't want anyone to feel alone. You are probably doing a lot better than you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [Tumblr (gold-from-straw)](https://gold-from-straw.tumblr.com/) ^_^


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